To Earn Your Light
by Death by Fallen Star
Summary: After the Thenardier's kidnap the Princess Euphrasie, they lock her in a tower where her hair (that posses the power to make them young) grows & grows. They never let her out, not for eighteen years, and call her Cosette (sometimes). Cosette is getting restless though, and the ground beneath her doesn't seem as dangerous as she once thought it to be. Cosette & Marius. Rapunzel AU.
1. Wound

"_The __wound __is __the __place __where __the __Light __enters __you__." _

― _Rumi_

There is a kingdom, just over the water, under the clouds, and a long gaze away. It's beautiful: tall towers and open fields and when the sun shines on it, it glitters in the light of the beams. It's known as the The Sun Kingdom, having lasted since the first sunrise, the legend says. The Kingdom is happy, as happy as a kingdom can be. Whether it be the usually good weather or the kind ruler, no one really knows.

The ruling king is Jean Valjean The First. The only, it appears and worries people. King Valjean is kind, gentle, and fair. A loving King his people cry for and praise. He smiles at them, touches their hands, tells them good omens, and helps their lives as much as anyone can. They asks to kiss his feet, he shakes his head, says he is not worthy. This is how Jean Valjean the First is and loved for it.

Many worry though, for King Valjean is aging faster than can please anyone, and yet he has not had an heir to rule as he has. It worries his people, which worries him. He can't find a suitor though, for the one he had loved had left him in the dead of the night with a terrible heartache. Quite frankly, he can't find it in him to look for someone new.

"Who was your love, dear King?" a small boy named Feuilly, maybe five years old, asks. King Valjean has a habit of visiting the hospital as often as he can, comforting those who are sick or with the sick. Feuilly is a little boy with a terribly broken arm. Valjean comes to visit him as often as he can, because Feuilly is also an orphan, and no one comes to visit an orphan.

King Valjean smiles, sad but true. He sits down next to the boy with red hair and rubs his hands together. "A beautiful lady," he tells the boy. "With chestnut brown hair and green eyes with golden spots in them. She was beautiful. More beautiful than any woman I have ever tried to meet. She told me she loved me, once upon a time, said we... well, that we might get married." Tears collect, just a few, in the corners of his eyelids, and he clears his throat to remind himself not to cry. "Sadly, a few months ago, we had a dinner together. I asked her to be my queen, and she cried but never gave an answer. Then, when I woke the next morning, I was told she had left the kingdom. She didn't even leave a note. She merely disappeared." He has to wipe his cheeks, for his tears are slightly dripping. He's not ashamed, all good men must cry.

Feuilly's voice, quiet and tame, asks, "What was her name?"

The Kind King, can barely manage to whisper, "Fantine... Her name was Fantine."

**!&!**

On the other side of the bay, a kingdom lay that was downdraught with terrible woe. The kingdom lay in the middle of the darkest woods in all the land, shaded under big thick branches and terrible moods of the people. The people cried in hunger and ached under the ruling of King Javert.

It's important to note that King Javert was not a bad, selfish man. He loved his people almost as much King Valjean did, he just wasn't good at ruling an entire population of citizens. He believed deeply in the law and sought to make sure it was just. He arrested those he thought were dangerous and spent little time ensuring his people actually felt safe, because he was arresting the dangerous folks, so why wouldn't they?

They don't grovel below him, don't call his name in love, don't praise him. King Javert is never turned off by this, not so much, not really.

He has heard of the Sun Kingdom, but since he had started his rule he had never been across the bay. He's heard rumours, of a loving King with an embracing following. He's also heard of a system in place, where prisoners can plead innocence, talk through with the king himself, and see if their neck is worth saving.

This disgusts King Javert, down to his bones. The idea of listening to the scum of the streets, of _reasoning_ with them- it's terrifying. King Javert sends a letter to King Valjean, asking what his purpose is with this idea of "trials". King Valjean replies in so:

"_Dear __King __Javert__:_

_I __believe __that __everyone __deserves __a __second __chance__. __My __oldest__, __dearest __bishop __here __in __my __kingdom __once __told __me __second __chances __were __created __by __God __and __given __to __all __men__. __Don__'__t __you __agree__?_

_Sincerely__,_

_King __Valjean__"_

**!&!**

He's leaving the hospital, late at night, when he sees her. She is tripped over on the sidewalk, holding her large stomach and vomiting into the gutters. He knows it's her, for her hair is a memory stained into him and when she looks at him, he starts to cry.

"Fantine," he whispers as he approaches her. This is her, sweet Fantine whom he had loved, but she is not the same. This Fantine is worn and broken, beaten by something intangible, and pregnant. "Fantine," he whispers again and kneels in front of her, staring at her stomach and tear stained face. She is beautiful, she is broken, and he picks her up without a second thought. "Fantine," he mumbles, astonished as she begins to cry harder.

"I'm sorry," she groans. She says it again, before coughing blood into her hand.

**!&!**

He is a boy, young and shy. His cheeks are dotted with a constellation if freckles and wrinkles in his eyes. He's terribly cute and blushes away when people tell him so. His name is Marius Pontmercy, and he's barely three years old.

His mother left him, moments after his birth, crying to God, "I never asked for a son." No one ever tells Marius this, they tell him she simply left.

Marius's father dots on him. Carrying him and singing him lullabies and telling him he's perfect- absolutely perfect. Marius giggles and blushes and thinks of his father brilliantly. Mr. Pontmercy raises his son in the shadows of the Shaded Kingdom, but wishes to get away from the heaves of depression, maybe move East to where the sun shines on the water, at the Sun Kingdom.

Mr. Pontmercy has a father though who is very fond of the way King Javert rules. He likes the way he is held above the rest, because his long bloodline is a nice little reminder that they can't be bad people. He even has some influences in places, such as the church and the schools. Pontmercy Senior is very fond of the influence, so much he doesn't want his bloodline to lose it.

It's a long, drawn out fight of custody. Marius is lucky; his father shields him from the fight. Pontmercy Senior says he knows what's best, whereas Mr. Pontmercy declares that as the father of the boy, he will relocate their lives as he pleases. The fight is so severe, it is presented in front of King Javert himself. King Javert wishes to lose nine of his kingdom, and tells Mr. Pontmercy he must give his child to the grandfather, for the bettering of the boy. Mr. Pontmercy cries, begs, and screams. Screams such terrible things, he is sentenced to prison, then banished from the kingdom altogether.

Pontmercy Senior tells Marius his father has left him, for good. Left him because he couldn't love him anymore. Marius cries for a very long time.

**!&!**

"She is ill and dying," tells the bishop to the King. "The baby is too much for her - her body is small and frail and the child inside is strong and large. The way her body is though - she'll die before the baby has a chance to live."

"You must cure her," King Valjean said at once. "No matter the cost - I will pay what I must pay. Please, you must save her, and the child." He looks to the room, where Fantine is staring at her stomach with hollowed eyes and cheeks. "You must."

"Is the child yours?" The question falls on deaf ears, fore the King has went to talk to his old love.

Fantine is young, still, though Valjean can't help but see new lines and marks on her pretty face. Her cheek bones are prominent and the color in her eyes has faded to a murky gray. Her hair is thin, spots of her scalp are balding, and the color is dimming to a terrifying shade of gray. Her bones are showing, in her fingers and ribs. She is dying, and Valjean still thinks her beautiful.

"I am sorry," she says, her voice sad and uncontrolled. "I should have told you. I should have. My mother had sold me the night before our dinner. She was convinced you would never do more than have an affair with me. She sold my womb to a man in the Shaded Kingdom. He had me for a week, and grew tired of me. He had two other wives, much prettier than I. When I told him I carried his child, he slapped me and said he wouldn't dare have a child with me, and kicked me away from him. I was so lost, and no one would take me in. I've been sick for several days now, you see. Oh, I suppose months. My. I've been sick for an awfully long time."

Valjean weeps, weeps terribly in her fragile hands. She cries, but not as much as he. She has cried enough for a very long time.

"I will heal you," he promises. "I will."

"And my child?"

He looks to her, and he sees in the eyes he once swam in with love, true fear. Fear not for herself, but for her child. Fear to keep her child alive, more than herself. Deep, dark, sacrifice.

"And your child," he promises.

**!&!**

King Javert realizes, in the pit of anger in his stomach, that the people from his kingdom are slowly trickling to the next. At the rate it has been, he will not have a kingdom in five years time.

"Temptation," he slurs, drink of feverish rage that whatever he is doing is good. It must be! It must all be good. "King Valjean- he offers temptation. Ugly temptation. I must rid the world of the Sun Kingdom's vain."

He is never corrected, never wronged. He believes he is right, and no one teaches him the difference between that and wrong.

**!&!**

The bishop is able to wield a potion made from a flower, claimed the be from a drop of the sun. It's bright, yellow to gold and shining. The potion is a sweet, honey flavor, Fantine tells them. She is still fading, but the taste makes her smile.

"God is asking for a soul," the bishop explains. "The flower will heal the child, it will keep the child alive."

"What of my love?" demands the King, to tears with rage. "You said to save her!"

"I said to try. She will whither, and the child will live. The child is strong, a brave soul. Fantine will be proud."

She screams from the room she is giving life in. Valjean is winces in rage. "I am angry with God, Bishop," he confesses.

"It is okay. He will forgive, and you will earn your light, dear King."

**!&!**

Marius has a dream when he is still three years old. He sees a man, with baked honey hair like him and splattering of freckles. He cradles Marius and cries and says he's awfully sorry. He doesn't know who he is, but he listens to his soothing voice tell him love. The man cries, and as he does, small wings sputter from his back. He strokes his Marius's hair, tells him he loves him and he's sorry. The wings get larger and Marius asks if he is a bird. He nods and kisses Marius scrunched forehead.

"I do love you, my son," he whispers.

Marius wakes up, no memory of a dream.

**!&!**

"It's a girl," Valjean tells Fantine, who is still bleeding and cannot keep her eyes open. "Hair golden like the sun."

"Gold? How... How strange," her voice is a whisper. "Where is she?" Her eyes are barely open now.

"Being cleaned, my love. She will be here soon. Stay with me, dear Fantine," he begs.

She does not seem to hear him now, and instead smiles to the ceiling. "A girl with golden hair... How beautiful... Oh my. What will... What will I call her?" Her head turns to her dear love a, but her eyes have shut. She is not asleep, merely dying. "Euphrasie... Yes. What a beautiful name for my... Dear pet. Yes, I love her. Where is she? Where is... Where is my child?"

Valjean is crying again, and he wonders if he will ever be done. "Euphrasie will be here soon, Fantine, I swear."

"I'm going to die," she whispers. "Tonight, aren't I? Oh... Where will my Euphrasie go?" It is the first time distress appears on her face, her eyes opening for a moment and Valjean feels a rush of protection.

"I will care for her. I will love her. She will be my heir- Euphrasie will be a princess for the rest of her days, dear Fantine. She will be here in a moment."

Her lips are pale, trembling in the low light and she is grinning again. "Thank you, " she whispers. "Tell her I... I love her... I will love her tomorrow, when I hold... Her..."

And in a gentle sigh of the light, Fantine is gone. Whispered out of breath and into a place where her smile shines and her flesh breaths again.

The nurse comes in, baby wrapped tightly in her arms. Valjean asks for her, holds her, and cries.

**!&!**

Javert plans, prepares, and wields his people to fight against the kingdom of disgusting rituals and villains not laid to rest. They attest to him, thinking anything will cure their agony.

It takes a year - one year to accommodate. He does though, he has an army and ways to fight. King Javert is ready.

Marius is four, tugging at his Grandfather's pant leg and being swatted away. He asks, "What's happening?"

"Justice, my boy," is all the Grandfather has to say.

**!&!**

Jean Valjean is granted one beautiful, short year with Euphrasie. He sings her songs and throws her in the air and tells her she is beautiful, perfect. She has hair, long and golden that Valjean can't bring himself to cut. It shines in the morning light when the sun trickles through her stained glass window and onto her crib. She has a large birthmark on her shoulder that, when looked at carefully, is very similar to the outline of a flower. Her eyes are big, green orbs that Valjean knows well. The way her eyelids curve and her eyelashes slope and the speck of gold dust on the irises - she is the spitting image on her mother.

Euphrasie doesn't cry much as a baby. Only when need is desperate, and she gurgles and coos and Valjean thinks she's trying her hardest to talk. Eventually, her first word is, "Papa!" and Valjean is hit with the realization that he has fully taken this child as his own. He loves her dearly.

After her first birthday, three weeks after precisely, King Javert begins his raid on the Sun Kingdom.

**!&!**

The war is gross, brutal, and harsh. King Valjean is so surprised that his army take far too long to get ready and he is down in the kingdom, attempting to gather his people to safety. He leaves Euphrasie with the bishop, begging him to keep her safe. The bishop is old, but says he will do what is in his power. Valjean kisses her head before running of, going to help his kingdom fight.

The bishop is old, too old. Years have withered him. When someone breaks in through the window of the safe house, his heart stops beating and he falls to the ground anticlimactically. The old bishop dies on the floor, hearing the shriek of young Euphrasie and seeing two young folks break in.

"Aye! Did you kill him you old dingy, bat," a woman says slapping her husband in the face. "This wasn't a part of the deal!"

"He just fell over!" The man distresses. "Don't look at me! He fell! I'm sure he's just asleep. Come on now, grab the kid! You don't want to get caught in this nasty war, do you?"

Madame Thenardier sticks her tongue out of her mouth, giving her husband the middle finger before turning around and grabbing the blonde, crying child out of her crib. "Shush it you brat. Ugh, I don't want another of these."

"Hush up, we're only keeping her for a bit," Thenardier reminds her, jumping back up through the window and holding his hands out for the baby. "We snatch her, send a ransom note, and then give her back. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," she snides and hikes up the window herself. "We've already got a brat at home though - oh, bother I forgot about her again." She sighs, snatching the baby from her husband and covering it with towels to keep it quiet. "Let's go. Montparnasse is only eight - he can't really watch a one-year-old.

**!&!**

The war will be lost, and the realization makes Valjean cry. His people are dying and the forces of King Javert move closer. He tells his men to run - to find their families and go. There will be no victory. His men apologize, but he shakes his head. A bullet goes off and they all scatter - Valjean to Euphrasie, to find her and take her away with him.

The sight he sees to her is cruel. Bodies along the streets, blood staining the way. Children, men, women, dogs - all dead corpses he has let down. He wishes to bless them all, but he wants to be selfish, and find his daughter and make her safe.

The safehouse is small and hidden, least likely to be noticed. It has been though, judging by a broken window on the wall. Valjean gasps, running as fast as he can. He rushes in, falls beside the old Bishop's corpse, and cries into an empty crib. He hollers her name, begging God and Fantine above to give her back. Give her back.

Someone hears the commotion, they run in to see their beautiful and dutiful king screaming to heavens. It's Feuilly, and he's broken by the sight of the broken king. He doesn't know what to do, just that the Guard of the Shaded Kingdom are coming. Coming closer and closer and King Valjean will be executed if caught. So Feuilly grabs him by the hand, pulls him as hard as he can, and Feuilly pulls and pulls and runs with his king crying behind him. He pulls him past the kingdom's borders, into the woods, and sits him behind a tree. "You alright, King?" Feuilly asks, the weeping having lost it's volume.

Valjean doesn't look at the boy and just says, "I'm not a king, not anymore."

**!&!**

The Thenardiers live in a gross, large hut on the outskirts of the Shaded Kingdom. It's dark and damp and no one really likes it. Mme. Thenardier even says so when they get back.

"Don't you worry, love," her husband tells her. "As soon as we get the money for the princess here, we'll be rolling in enough money to buy you _two_ nice houses."

"Yeah, yeah. Go start writing that letter. And I want _lots_ of money." She takes the baby into the next room, where a young Montparnasse is sitting and glaring at a young baby. The baby is a girl, the same age as Euphrasie. She is darker, like her mother and father. She has dark raven hair and dark black eyes. She's a beautiful baby with long droopy eyelashes and dimples. She's also crying, loudly. "Oh, what did you do to Eponine!" Mme. Thenardier yells.

"She bit me! Hard!" Montparnasse yells in return, showing the woman his finger, which is actually bleeding a bit.

"Shut your face boy, here, take this." She practically drops Euphrasie in the eight-year-old's arms and goes to grab her own daughter. She coos at the baby, rocking her gently in her arms. "There, there Eponine. Aww, don't cry darling," she bounces the child in her arms, cradling her child with an affection even she never knew she could have.

Montparnasse rolls his eyes and sits down, barely holding Euphrasie, who is still crying. "What's this?"

"Shut up!" Mme. Thenardier hisses before continueing to cradle her child. "Now, now, dear. Mother will sing you a lullaby, okay?"

It's an old song, that her mother taught her. It's from some folklore, about a flower who could heal. She's not familiar with the tale, but she does know the song by heart, and starts to sing it. Her voice is soothing, gentle and soft. Another quality she had not known existed.

"_Flower__, __gleam __and __glow__... __Let __your __power __shine__... __Make __the __clock __reverse__, __bring __back __what __once __was __mine__..." _She continues to sing the small song to Eponine, who slowly stops crying.

Montparnasse isn't really paying attention, he's just sitting on the floor, bouncing baby Euphrasie on his knee and tangling his fingers in her abnormally long hair (a habit he developed as a child.) He doesn't notice her hair starts glowing at first, but it slowly gets brighter and suddenly the light is blocking his thoughts and he looks down at the girl, who's now sleeping in his arms with bright hair shining. He's shocked, so shocked he sits there for a minute and watches and he looks at the finger Eponine's made bleed and he watches and it slowly starts to repair itself and slowly starts to make Montrapasse's eyes get bigger because his wound is being repaired by glowing hair.

He screams, high pitched and squealish. The babies resume their crying and Mme. Thenardier is livid in raise, asking what in the world is wrong with the almond-eyed orphan. He shows her his finger, which yes, she does remember when it was bleeding.

"I-it was her hair!" He exclaimed. "It started glowing! An-and it healed my finger!"

"What the devil?" Mme. Thenardier said and deposited Eponine into her crib without a second thought, running over to the other baby and picking her up. "What did you do?"

"I-I-I was just twirling my fingers in it while you were singing and it started glowing!"

"What the blazing," she mumbled and stared at the baby. She thought hard about the song she had sung. She thought of how her mother use to sing it to her, of how the words had a story... An old story, about a flower at was grown from a drop given by the sun. It was meant to have magical properties- healing wounds and perhaps- even?

She sings it again, holding the child's hair in her hand. This time she is more careful than gentle, and her eyes widen as the baby's hair begins to glow. She watches, as old wrinkles on her hand slowly start to smooth and disappear, and suddenly she feels much lighter, much more of energy and the crick in the back of her neck is gone. She asks Montparnasse if she looks different, he merely nods. She screams for her husband.

He enters, knocking over a table and asking, "What's wrong? Why is Eponine crying?"

"Never mind her!" Mme. Thenardier hollers. "Look at me! Can't you tell?"

And he can, for he renders the last time he saw his wife's face she had been older, slots and wrinkles slowly becoming more and more apparent. Now it was smooth- more beautiful than when they had first met. Her eyes are shiner, her hair is more vibrant- she's so stunning. "Wh-What happened?"

"This child's hair!" She explains, then shows him, and suddenly his face is much younger too. They are astonished, and Montparnasse is the only one to realize Eponine is _still _crying. He tries to shush her, as the adults talk of what to do.

"Cut it," Thenardier says. "Cut it, we keep it, and then sell the child back for ransom. We'll have so much money we won't know what to do." He pulls a rusty knife out of his pocket, grabs a lock from the child's head and cuts it as close to the scalp as he can get.

It dies in his hand instantly, the gold fades to a muddish brown and the hair attached to the child's head dies as well. They try to see if it will work, but the only hair that glows are the ones still growing from the children's scalp. They look at each other, distressed.

It's Montparnasse who finally says it. "You'll have to keep her."

**!&!**

Valjean finds himself in an old, abandon house that's two stories high and filled to the brim with the lone survivors from his kingdom. Many are orphans, and this makes him cry.

"I am sorry, children," he says a million times. "I have left you with no parents and I have been left without a daughter."

"Where is she?" A boy named Courfeyrac asks.

Valjean heaves a heavy sigh that shakes his heart. "She must have been killed, kidnapped and killed. I've lost my very own child." He cries again.

Eventually, a boy who is only twelve with short black hair speaks from the back. "We'll get you your kingdom back sir! Maybe Princess Euphrasie is there still!"

Valjean manages a small smile, "Yes, thank you, Enjolras."

**!&!**

They build a tower, in between the area of the Shaded Kingdom and the Sun Kingdom. They keep Euphrasie there for her years, call her a name so know one knows (usually Cosette, but sometimes they forget). They says she is their daughter, and that she is being kept safe. Her hair grows and keeps the Thenardiers' young.

Cosette, for that is how she knows herself, looks out of the one window she's been permitted, and stares at the sun in the sky, watching until night falls, and wonders, "Is this all I'll ever do?"


	2. Lonely

_"All great and precious things are lonely."_

_- John Steinbeck, East of Eden_

Seventeen years pass. Seventeen years, and the world that once was has changed. Starting with the first things.

The Sun Kingdom still is lit up in a blinding light every sunrise and set. The windows still gleam and the waters still crash on the castle's shore day in and day out. The people, however, are noticeably less happy. Frowns and flinches are more common than smiles and friendly "hellos". The people of the Sun Kingdom have had to shift their life for the worst, as sad as it is.

The King Javert raises both kingdoms the best he can, leaving his finest in charge when he is away at the other. It's strenuous though, and his hair is graying faster than it should. He worries, over a kingdom that is full of unhappy folk and no heir to his name. His worries grow as the rumors of a rebellion grow louder. He's spent the past decade of his life looking for the ex-King Valjean, who's at the lead of every whisper.

"Rumor says he leads a group to revolution."

"King Valjean means to take the Sun Kingdom back."

"Enjolras, the rouge, leads the group they say."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone."

King Javert does not like these rumors. They irk him to and endless degree and he's fuming by the end of them. He's ready to call treason on anyone who dates utters the old king's name. His people shrink when he stalks by, but he does not dare give them a glance.

His people, much like his reign, grow weaker.

**!&!**

The thing about rumors, is that they are so very often true.

A small village-esque area had came to be quite a few miles off the path that now led from the Shaded Kingdom to the Sun Kingdom. It lay deep within the woods, past the Dim Light's River and into a clearing. It was small, built to accommodate only those who felt the need to fix the kingdoms that once were.

The village mostly consisted of a small population, one dedicated to the Revolution of the People of the Sun Kingdom. The most, were young children who had been made orphans by the overtake of Javert. The had ran to the clearing, finding it in the middle of their haste to run. Stray adults had wandered to them over the years, runaways hoping to find a kingdom far away from the dreaded Shaded or Sun Kingdom. They found revolution, and often, they wept tears of joy.

A herd of young boys, made orphans by the Overtake, spearheaded the Village for revolution. They held meetings, screamed injustice, infiltrated the system of King Javert's, and made plans for justice.

The leader, is a stunning young man named Enjolras. Baked skin and sweeping brown hair. His family had burned in the midst of the Overtake, and Enjolras had been reborn into passion. hollered freedom and gave speeches that swooned the small population. He was a marvelous man, and Jean Valjean's most secure person in the revolution.

Valjean, the ex-king, had aged over the years. He had laid his grief to the bottom of his heart, for his sweet Euphraise and departed Fantine, and wore a smile for his faithful people. He kissed their hands and claimed that yes, his kingdom would be reclaimed. For seventeen years he yelled that yes, his kingdom would be reclaimed.

Feuilly had grown as well, older and sitting patiently at Valjean's side. He picked up the the art of paper: making fans and lamps for the town he now called home. He could paint and curve it as easily as air. He loves it, and spends most of his nights making presents instead of profit, because the smile a small child makes lightens his heart more than a heavy wallet.

Often, Feuilly takes walks with Valjean around the village. They talk small, but sometimes Feuilly gets a glimpse into the cracks broken of his beloved King's heart. One time, during the beginning of fall and the end of summer, when the trees were dying colours of green with brown holes, Valjean clutched his heart and whispered, "I mourn dear boy, too much. It hurts."

Feuilly had taken him to his home, and prayed, "Let my King get some rest."

Valjean had heard him though, and whispered to the boy, "I am still not King."

**!&!**

Marius's life, had changed dramatically.

At the beginning of spring one year, when Marius is twenty, his grandfather grows ill and passes away. His grandfather's last words are, "Make sure to continue to Pontmercy line. Marry that girl I picked out. She'll bare you a good son."

Marius cries at his grandfather's side, but later, when the aftermath has set in and the body is in the ground in the family grave- the boy's feelings fleet. He becomes more drawn away, more curious, and less concerned.

It occurs to him how little he _knows_ about his life. His grandfather had told him, through years of questions and wonders, his mother had left after he was born and his father followed shortly after. That his father had left because a child such as Marius was "awfully treacherous" to take care of. His grandfather had been a charitable, taking him in and bringing him up in the darkness of the Shaded Kingdom. Marius's life had been sculpted to the Pontmercy name, yelled at and etched to stand taller and speak better. Marius did his best to make his grandfather proud, but now his grandfather was dead, and there was a matter of the house.

His Grandfather's possessions we're meant to be sorted. Papers from years of life that Marius had never been told about. The girl his Grandfather had "picked out", a lady named Gwendolyn, had offered to help him with the mess, but Marius shushed her away from his side, not very attached to the brunette with large brown eyes and painted red lips.

He lounges about by himself in his Grandfather's study. Picking up papers and putting them in piles. This is his work stuff, his livelihood, his personal letters. The letters stop Marius and he sits down. Most are boring; discussing with the mayor of some past affairs, whether be over the issues of his home or his family.

There is one letter, all the way at the bottom that is singed on one side. Marius picks it up, his fingers lightly tracing the crisp side of the letter. He flips it over, and in large, curvy letters it read, "_To: Marius"_. His eyes widen and he quickly goes to opening the letter.

The letter itself is barely burnt and the handwriting is neat. Marius buries his wonder for how a letter addressed to him became slightly singed and buried deep within his Grandfather's thing, to focus on the handwriting.

"_Dear My Darling Marius,_

_I fear this is the last letter I will ever send you. I've sent so many the past year, and I believe your grandfather shows you known. I desperately hope he keeps them, hides them away from you, and one day you will find them all, and you will read them. I pray for that, my dear son._

_I have tried everything in my power to convince King Javert that you belong with me, my son. He is an unwavering man though, and insists you belong under the care of your Grandfather. I'm sorry my son, I should have done better to make sure to stay in the kingdom with you. I have since my banishment, travelled to the Sun Kingdom and, oh sweet Marius, how you're heart would light up here. I wish I could see you, dazzling in the sun with your freckles. My boy, how the rays make me miss you. Seeing the King Valjean with his own daughter is enough to break my heart. Oh Marius, how I miss you._

_I'm afraid my darling Marius, that I have grown very exhausted from my heartbreak. I'm quite afraid I don't know how to go on. I'm very tired Marius. Very tired. I do not know how to wake up, knowing that I will never see you become the proud boy I know you to be. I'm sorry my boy, I don't know how to wait to see if I will ever know you again._

_I love you, my dear, sweet Marius._

_Forever,_

_Your Father"_

Marius's eyes are large, and his hands are shaking. He reads the letter once. Twice. Another time. Again. He reads the promises of love and the caring nicknames, and Marius is suddenly crying, throwing the letter to the ground and ripping through his Grandfather's things. He's looking for more letters. Boxes of letters addressed to _Marius_ or _My Son_ or _My Darling _because he was promised more letters. More words of love and explanation of all the lies whirling around in his head. He throws boxes to the ground and ruffles through odd ended envelopes and screams more than once.

An hour passes, maybe two, before Marius's mind finally gets to him.

_The letters are burnt_, his mind tells him. _Gone forever in ash. For whatever reason, your Grandfather could not bring himself to burn this one. But the letters are gone. And you've lived a life of lies._

**!&!**

The thing of Marius, by the end of a harsh spring, is that he's run away from the Shaded Kingdom.

It took him a week to come to the conclusion. He asked about of his father, but people shook their heads. Gwendolyn grows tired of him and his incessant need to be away from her, and thus tells him, "_Either you get over yourself and marry me, or I will move on to a new courter." _ And so, Marius comes to the conclusion, that he hates the place he lives.

The Sun Kingdom is not what it was when his father lived there, Marius knows that much. But he does wish to be out of the dark of the world, past the gates and trees and towards a brighter light. So, he runs towards North. The Shaded Kingdom is West, the Sun Kingdom is East, South is the sea. North seems logical.

His trip lasts, by himself, three days. On the third day, he comes to the realization that he has but one loaf of bread left and three coins to his name. He is lost in the woods, deep within the North, and no skills to find his own food.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, on how to prolong the death that is inevitable, he hears a rustle behind him. Of leaves crunchy and sticks breaking, and he turns around. His eyes widen for a moment, but before he can register anything, he is slammed into and toppled over on the ground. He sits up quickly, sure that a guard from the Shaded Kingdom has found him after a wild hunt to retrieve the last Pontmercy. He stares up, into the face of a boy no older than himself, with puffy cheeks and curly brown hair. The boy quickly puts a hand to his belt, and Marius can see the holster for a sword. He's going to be killed.

The boy says, in a light and casual tone, "Good day sir. My isn't the sun cold today?" There's an air of tricking curiosity in his voice, and Marius is quick to pick up the tone that says, "_This is a code_."

Marius puts his hands up, and tries to plead with the boy. "Please sir. I don't know what you're asking, if you're asking for a code. I'm no spy nor rouge. I ran away, and I wish to not die here." The brown eyes on the boy light up and Marius prays to be spared.

"A runaway? My, it's been awhile since someone's run this way." The boy completely lets go of his belt and extends a friendly hand. "My name is Courfeyrac, and you look like you haven't ate in a day, maybe two?"

"I only have a few pieces of bread left," Marius replies, grabbing the hand and allowing to be pulled up. "I've been sparring it."

"Where are you running off to?"

Marius shakes his head in reply.

The boys eyes grow warm, and a smile graces his features. Marius feels like a child under the boy's stare, and shifts nervously. Suddenly the boy's hand flies out again and he holds it promptly. "My name is Courfeyrac! Just Courfeyrac, if you please."

Marius blinks and shakes Courfeyrac's hand nervously. "I'm Marius-" He stops short, the word _Pontmercy_ stopping and falling back down his throat and slamming into his stomach. He aches, and chokes out, "Marius. Just... Marius."

"Marius," Courfeyrac says carefully, giving a suspicious eye. When Marius nods, he shrugs off the look and says. "Alright then, Marius. Luckily for you, I'm a terribly nice person, and in the midst of you dilema, will take you to my home, just over the way here. A bit off to East, but mostly North. It's only a half a days more travel. We'll be there before night. Come along. Oh," Courfeyrac stops and turns to face the boy, still a friendly smile upon his face. "Out of pure and lovely curiosity, what _are_ your opinions of the King Javert? I'm mildly interested, I wish to not offend you."

Marius thinks, of the letter and the legal agreements, of how King Javert had let his Grandfather take him. Banished his father. How he had torn apart poor Marius's life with no cause, no hesitation, nothing. How the King's cold hands had ripped Marius's father away, far away. And Marius's heart clenches and the drop in his stomach weighs more, and through gritted teeth he says, "I despise the man."

And Courfeyrac smiles.

**!&!**

Courfeyrac takes him to a small village Marius is sure he would have missed on his own. It's quaint and close together and there are no trees to hide the sky. It's dusk, and the sun is just setting over the tops of trees and the houses that are built and for the first time, Marius feels like he can fully see the sun. He's lived in the realms of the Shaded Kingdom for so long, he's never taken the time to look to the sunrise and set. He stares at the sky, where the blue fades darker and lighter and mixes with hues of purple, pink, orange, yellow. The shades blend and bleed- one falling into the next with little ease. Marius is hypnotized by the scene, and he almost cries a bit.

When he looks away, a long few moments later, he sees Courfeyrac looking away, clearly intending to give him privacy with the setting. Marius is grateful and smiles at the boy with curly brown, who nods in reply before continuing to lead him along. They come to the front building, where a small booth sits, and inside has a man sitting, leaning against the counter and drinking from a flask.

"Mornin' Courf," the man says with a husky voice. Courfeyrac frowns and crosses his arms and pouts. The man with an off-shade of pale eyes rolls them before saying, "right, right- _sorry_. _My_ isn't the sun _cold_ today?"

"The sun is never cold; merely hidden," Courfeyrac responds happily and the boy in the booth rolls his eyes again. He suddenly catches view of Marius, who had been cowering behind Courfeyrac, and raises an eyebrow to the freckled boy. He gestures for Courfeyrac to respond, who steps out of the way and smiles. "Ah yes! This is a new boy, Marius. Lost and afraid in the woods, so I brought him back home. Marius, meet Grantaire." Marius nods.

"Enjolras will ring your neck," Grantaire says to Courfeyrac instead. "You know how he feels about you bringing in strays."

"Oh please. He can very quickly get over it. Speaking of our fearless leader, where is he?"

"Off in the bar, talking up a storm again. The invasion is just a few months away." Grantaire looks to Marius, lifting an eyebrow and says, "You're awfully quiet, boy."

"You can't be much older than me?" Marius says instinctively, because while the man with shaggy black hair has old, tired eyes-his entire being suggests a younger body.

"Who knows?" The man shrugs then takes a drink out of his flask. "You better take him to Apollo. You're lucky Marius, you'll see Courfeyrac get chewed out royally."

"Oh, pish," Courfeyrac chuckles, before nodding for Marius to follow. "Although," he whispers when they're away from the booth. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did. Enjolras doesn't much like new people. Or any people, now that I think about it."

**!&!**

Enjolras, openly, doesn't like Marius too much. It takes a lot of convincing from Courfeyrac to let him stay, and much interrogating to prove Marius isn't a spy for the Shaded Kingdom. When they ask why he left, he simply says he was tired of their ways. He never tells them his last name is "Pontmercy" and they never ask.

The boys, who call themselves "le Amis", are a creative bunch of people who range in and out of a spectrum. Their personalities all spiral in different directions that somehow correlate into each other easily, an entire system of differences that flow together. Marius spends many times trying to slowly fit himself into this system.

It's hard, because he's shy and never had to _make_ friends. Friends flocked to him because of the name Pontmercy; now he's sure they would leave if he mentioned it. He now has to talk about interests he's unsure of and politics he's not as engulfed in as everyone else.

Courfeyrac is the nicest, and let's Marius sleep in his apartment on a spare bed. Grantaire likes to tease him, all good heartedly because he also buys the freckled boy a drink when he's done. There's a few others who don't seem to mind him, but he still feels lopsided and Courfeyrac genuinely tries to include Marius in conversations he can't manage to form opinions about.

King Valjean meets him on the day of his arrival, right after Enjolras has pulled Courfeyrac aside to "talk with him". The King is old, but very nice and with a fragile smile.

"Hello, you're new," he says and sits next to Marius at the table. "Not a spy, I assume. Lost or a runaway?"

Marius smiles and nods. "The second one," he answers.

"Ah, yes. You'll fit in just fine here."

"Will I?" Marius had asked himself, but the King had heard and patted his shoulder.

"Not at first, I know. No one fits in at first. Give it time, all things find a place."

Marius smiles, and the King Valjean returns the gesture. He's soon pulled away by a man named Feuilly, and Marius is left alone again at the table. He stares at the table, with splinted wood and cracks, and prays the table won't break. And prays he won't, either.

**!&!**

Cosette is older now. A teenager, with large green eyes and a heart shaped face. Her skin is pale, a result of years spent inside. Most days, she spends in front of her mirror, inspecting every inch of her simple face. Eyelashes that are long, eyebrows that thin, teeth that glowing, lips that are light. Her nose is flat and boring. She looks at herself everyday, and everyday, she sees nothing special.

She has spent the past years of her life cooped inside a tower. She has never left-too dangerous, her parents tell her. She has stayed up inside a tower her whole life, and in the meantime, her hair has grown.

Her mother and father, two beings who mean to protect her, had taught her at a young age the power her hair holds. They taught her the song, a lullabye they had sang to her. They told her they once lived in a village, and that when she was born people rejoiced her. When they found of her hair's powers though, they had made to steal young Cosette, and cut her hair. That was why, behind her neck, she had a tiny stub of dark brown hair. Once it had been cut, the colour from it had drained and the hair had altogether stopped growing. Whenever she dare to ask her parents to leave the tower, just for a bit, they would pull on this stump of hair and remind her that the outside world was _bad_. She would agree, and go back to her room.

She mostly lives by herself. Sometimes her parents stay with her, but they often have other things to do. She's old enough to cook and scared enough to never leave, so they don't mind her being alone. She has three other siblings; an older sister named Eponine, a younger sister named Azelma, and a younger brother named Gavroche. (Eponine had once mentioned the life of two other brothers, but they had died in childbirth and Cosette decided to never ask.) Her siblings do not visit her often though-in fact she hasn't seen Gavroche since he was a baby. They all stay on the ground, in the world of bad people and mean intentions.

Her days are spent boring, tedious, and insane. She's taught herself to cook and paint and read and still, she runs out of things to think. Her brain creates people, stories, and words, and she wishes on stars for someone to come find her, someone to make the days go by quicker.

The only people who come though are her mother and father, and she throws down her hair and pulls them up, one at time.

"Morning Mother, morning Father," she says and let's her mother hug her.

"Good morning, Colette," her father says absently, and Cosette pretends to not feel the sting in her heart.

"Oi, you dope, it's Cosette. You named her for christ sake," her mother defends, but her father has stopped listening and went to the kitchen to eat some cookies Cosette had made the day before.

Cosette looks at her parents. Her mother is dark skinned, with dark blonde hair that's graying today. It curls all around her and is decorated with trinkets and dead flowers. Her eyes are tiny and brown, and her teeth are crooked and yellow. She has an upturned nose and bushy eyebrows, and Cosette stretches to say their lips look the same. Her father is tall and lean, with grayed red hair and small dark blue eyes. His eyebrows are bushy too, and his teeth have a large gap in the front and Cosette stretches to say their noses are similar. They look nothing like her, and this is why she spends her days staring at herself in the mirror.

They don't beat around the bush, and in a minute her mother is asking, "Cosette, won't you sing for Mother? I'm feeling awfully tired."

She nods, and goes to sit on a stool, closely to a chair that her Mother perches herself on. She grabs a hairbrush from a table and waits as Cosette begins to sing.

Cosette's voice is quiet, gentle. A bare hum in her throat and the word's ring beautifully. It flies out of her throat, to the windows, and soars out, away from her. When she finishes and looks to her mother, her eyes are larger, her hair is lighter, her teeth are whiter. Cosette still looks nothing like her, and she sighs.

"Thank you darling," she kisses the girl on the forehead, sloppy and Cosette appreciates it, but feels her heart sag.

"Mother," she says. "How is Eponine? I haven't seen her in a long time."

"'Ponine?" her Father answers instead. "Oh, the brat ran off again. She'll be back soon enough, but we haven't seen her in a week or so. Azelma says she went off with some student brat."

Cosette's heart stutters in jealousy. Eponine has spent most of her life running from their family. The first time she did, she tried to take Cosette with her. Her parents found them, whipped them, and their Father had said to Eponine, "You cannot take her away from us! You can run away you dog, but don't you dare take away Cosette!" Eponine had cried and ran away, only to be back a week later.

Now, Cosette wonders how long Eponine will stay away. The longest she's ever left is a month, and although Cosette is terribly jealous, she wonders if this time Eponine will stay away and be happy. Because to Cosette, Eponine always seems terribly sad.

Eponine doesn't seem to like Cosette most times, glaring and rolling her eyes, but Cosette like Eponine's company best of all, because Eponine doesn't use her hair.

"Maybe I could help find her?" Cosette whispers, playing with a loose thread in her dress.

It's a quick motion, one second her Mother is dotting and lovely, the next she has that short bit of brown hair wrapped around her fingers and pulling Cosette to stand up. "You are _not_ to leave! Don't you dare bring this up again Cosette!"

Cosette nods, tears blurring her eyes. Her mother gives a final jerk, before letting go and walking to the window to leave.

Her father approaches, and lays a hand on her shoulder. "Understand Coquette, we just don't want people to hurt you. Men out there? Much scarier than you'd probably think." He laughs, gives a lighter tug to that hateful brown piece of hair. It's meant to be playful, but it's sore and she cries a little to herself. She let's them down from her tower. They don't say when they'll return, or if anyone will come to visit her. As far as she knows, this is the last time she'll see them.

**!&!**

Back at her mirror, she stares at herself. Her eyes are young, her face is pure, and her hair is the shade of the sun. Behind her, she can see the sun setting, through the reflection of the mirror and out the window. She sees trees, and birds flying far away. Farther away than she will ever be. She cries again.

**!&!**

**A/N:** Hello! I hope you're liking the story thus far! If you'd like to know about future updates, the occasional sneak peak, and me making excuses as I try to explain why the next chapter is taking so long, you can follow me on tumblr with the blog named: theonewhowrites. Icon credit to poninefauchelevent on tumblr. Isn't it beautiful? Ugh. I love it.


	3. Desperation

"_Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape. "_

_- William S. Burroughs_

There are levels of comfort in repetition.

For instance: Cosette wakes up every morning knowing how her day will be. She will get out of bed, she will get dressed, she will wash her face, she will stare in the mirror for a prolonged period of time. Until her stomach growls in her belly, actually. She will then make herself something to eat, have only one piece and leave the rest for her family (who may or may not come). She will then clean up her mess, clean up her tower, before accidentally getting caught staring at herself in the mirror for too long. She will stop, looking away and deciding to paint flowers on the wall or sew a loose seam. Her hand will cramp before too long, and then she will decide to read a book she's read 347 times before. She will then stand up, walk around her tower and talk smally to herself. She will clamber around, looking for new crooks and nannies that she pretends she hasn't discovered before, until her stomach roars again. Lunch will be boring and small and afterwards she will wait and see if her family will come visit her. If they do, she'll make them younger and listen to them tell her how bad the world outside her tower is. If they don't, she'll read another book she has read 358 times before. Eventually she'll grow anxious and brush every inch of her long, golden hair. She'll have a small dinner, then a large desert. She'll wind back up at her mirror, staring at her eyes and skin and nose. Then, out of pure boredom, she will go to sleep; knowing in her heart the next day will be exactly the same.

There are also levels of melancholy in repetition.

For instance: Cosette wakes up _every_ morning _knowing_ how her day will be. She will get out of bed, she will get dressed, she will wash her face, she will _stare _in the mirror for a prolonged period of time. Until her stomach _growls_ in her belly, actually. She will then make herself something to eat, have only one piece and leave the rest for her family (who _may _or _may not_ come). She will then clean up _her_ mess, clean up _her_ tower, before accidentally getting caught staring at herself in the mirror for too long. She will stop, looking _away_ and deciding to paint flowers on the wall or sew a loose seam. Her hand _will_ cramp before too long, and then she will decide to read a book she's read _347_ times before. She will then stand up, walk around _her_ tower and _talk_ smally to _herself_. She will clamber around, looking for new crooks and nannies that she _pretends_ she hasn't discovered before, until her stomach _roars_ again. Lunch will be _boring_ and _small_ and afterwards she will _wait_ and see if her family will come visit her. _If_ they do, she'll make them younger and listen to them tell her how _bad_ the world outside _her_ tower is. If they _don't_, she'll read _another_ book she has read _358 _times before. _Eventually_ she'll grow anxious and brush _every inch_ of her long, golden hair. She'll have a small dinner, then a large desert. She'll wind back up at her mirror, _staring _at her eyes and skin and nose. Then, out of pure _boredom_, she will go to sleep; _knowing_ in her _heart_ the next day will be _exactly the same_.

**!&!**

Cosette is reading a book, called _Oh How Small_. It's a very small book, with crinkled pages and ripped corners. Her father, back when she was just a little girl with hair that only trailed a few feet behind her, gave it to her one day. She had whined, saying she got so awfully bored. He bought her several books-fifteen precisely. He had said, "For you Cosette; we can't have you getting _too _bored now." She had thought it to be a loving gesture, now it makes her sad.

The books were nice, but they were old and always the same. She wanted new books, but it was rare for her to get anything nowadays. Her parents had grown tired of her constant need for stimulates-buying her paints, books, games. "You cost us more and you don't even _do_ anything!" her mother had screeched after Cosette had asked for new needles to stitch with.

_Oh How Small_ is a good book. It's about a baby bird, who falls out of it's nest and breaks its wings when it's born. Aloma (the bird) goes about the book trying to find someone to heal the broken wings, so she may fly into the sky and back home to her mother and father.

This is Cosette's 359th time reading _Oh How Small_, and as she reads the chapter where Aloma finally has her wings fixed and she is flying back home, Cosette reads the passage out loud.

"_The world below Aloma is small, oh how small it is. The trees are drops of green, the fields are canvases of dying yellow and splatters of the rainbow from wildflowers. The mountains are points, and the water from the rivers are slivers of dying blue in the fading sun. Oh how small the world is. Aloma thinks back to her time on the tiny world, all of the adventures and stories she will tell. It does not matter though, whether her stories be exciting or dull. The only thing that makes Aloma chirp with joy, is in the distance, she can see her home. Her home where her Mother and Father wait. She flies faster, the air rushing over her and her wings spread wide. She takes one glance to the earth below her, before never looking back_."

Cosette blinks and puts the book down. She looks away from the pages on the book, and outside the window she sits at. The wind rushes, and she can feel it a little bit. The tops of the trees sway and she feels a fire light in her veins. She hates the book _Oh How Small_, she's decided.

**!&!**

It's later, after lunch when she's in the midst of painting, she has visitors.

She's painting a bird with an arrow in it's heart. She doesn't examine why she's painting it– she pretends she doesn't know why.

It's Azelma's voice that rings out like a crystal. "Cosette! Let down your hair!"

Cosette sighs, dropping her paint brush in a bowl of water and walking to the window ledge.

"Co_sette_!" Azelma shrieks, her voice high pitched and shrill. "Hurry _up_!"

The long haired girl doesn't bother to peer down. She knows Azelma is down there, hands on her hips and Montparnasse laughing and smoking a cigarette at her side. She throws her hair over a hook that's been screwed onto the top of the window ledge and lets it fall down to the ground. She feels them grab on, and Azelma hollers up for her to pull. Cosette is small, but her arms are built and strong from years of pulling and tugging her family and others up to her tower.

Soon, Montparnasse is hopping through the window, with Azelma clung to his back. She giggles when Cosette let's go of the hair and a sigh of relief. "Gosh Cosette, you sure did take a long time today!" she giggles and pokes her sister at her side.

Cosette flinches away, but gives a small smile to the tiny red-head. Azelma has their mothers eyes and their father's hair. There's no doubting she's their child.

"Hello Azelma, hello Montparnasse," she says and smiles at the man. He's older, tall and lean with slicked back, black hair and deep, tan skin. He's been apart of her life as much as her siblings; coming and going as he wants. He's seven years older than Cosette, but acts as though he's father sometimes.

"Hey, sis!" Azelma snorts. "Busy day? Ha!" She pokes the blonde again, and steps directly onto the girl's hair. "I bet you've been _so_ busy. What'd you do, read? Paint? Bake some cookies? Ha!" Cosette steps away from Azelma so she isn't poked again.

"Hey now, Zelm, leave your poor sister alone," Montparnasse says with a smirk and a weird tone. Azelma laughs and walks off to the kitchen. Montparnasse looks at Cosette, a peculiar glint in his eyes that makes her shift away and go over to her seat by the chair. She knows why they're here; Montrapasse's eyes are red and Azelma's teeth are a tint away from white.

She's right, because the next second has Azelma coming out of the kitchen with a brownie and sitting in the chair. She takes a bite, grabs a hairbrush, and places it on Cosette's hair and waits. Cosette starts to sing, gentle and soft. Her eyes travel to Montparnasse, who's holding a lock in his hand and staring at the painting of an empty tree with a loose leaf falling to the ground. When she's done, and the bright glow of her hair fades and Montrapasse's eyes are wide and clear and Azelma's teeth and shiny and white.

They don't stay long, because, Azelma says, "We have better things to do than stay in a crummy tower! Hahaha!" She slides down Cosette's hair and to the ground. Montparnasse gives her a look, his eyes scanning her body.

"You're a poor thing. Like a bird. I pity you. Stuck here. I guess the world is bad. Not that you'll ever know," he says suddenly. Cosette is taken aback, her eyes wide and before she can respond, he's sliding down her hair. She runs to the windows ledge, peering over and watching as him Azelma walk off into the woods.

She waits until their gone, waits until they are completely out of sight, waits until she can't even strain to hear Azelma's piercing voice. When they're gone, she thinks of what Montparnasse had said.

"_... Like a bird."_

In a blind, intense fury that is white and hot, her blood boils and she screams. On the windowsill sits _Oh So Small_ and Cosette grabs the book and throws it out the window. She uses all of the energy she's never been allowed to exert and she throws the book and screams, "I AM NOT A BIRD!" It only goes a few feet away, landing outside and on the grass. A book about a bird who hated the earth now rests on the grass and the dirt and Cosette is furious with anger and jealousy deep within her stomach. She falls to her knees, collapses into herself and cries, long and hard and the sobs rack her entire body. She shakes and screams and cries and whisper, "I'm not a bird. I'm _not_." And she is not.

**!&!**

Marius sleeps on Courfeyrac's floor every night. He was offered a room of his own, but Courfeyrac insisted that Marius couldn't really manage to care for himself, and Marius had agreed. So, most nights, Marius sleeps on a thin mattress on Courfeyrac's floor. Some nights, he lays awake, gets up, and stares out the window, at the moon and the stars, and he sighs. He rubs his face and holds his head in his hands and tries to feel like he knows what he's doing.

The town is nice to him and greets him with open arms. It's Marius who feels the needs to pull away and keep closed off though. So he pulls away and gives polite nods and smiles. The girl who keeps the local bar is nice, a lady named Musichetta. She teases him, but lovingly and figures out when the questions about why he ran have reached a limit. A boy named Jehan muses his hair and says things like, "Your freckles look like constellations good boy." Which makes Marius blush and Jehan laugh good-heartedly. Grantaire keeps him less sober with constant glasses of wine and ale being pushed his way, and Marius can't find it within him to turn them down.

Courfeyrac keeps Marius as engaged as he can through the discussion of revolution. Enjolras though, with as little harm as he can muster, often sweeps away Marius's thoughts and ideas, and Marius, again, closes to himself.

It takes a week or a month (Marius has lost track of time here) for Courfeyrac and Combeferre (a very nice man who manages to give Marius a warm smile every time they run across each other) to convince Enjolras to let Marius in on the secret. Enjolras is skeptical, being vague about plans and ambiguous about targets. Marius is frustrated, but tries not to show it, until he accidentally lets a foreign curse slip past his lips.

The slur catches Bahorel's attention first, because he recognizes the accent Marius says it in. His eyebrows shoot up and he says, "Was that a word in the Ancient?" he asks.

Marius blushes furiously, and his eyes cast downwards. "Yes, yes–I'm sorry. I didn't mean–I just–"

But it is Enjolras who cuts him off, eyes wide, "You can speak Ancient?"

Marius looks to the brown haired boy, his brow furrowed. "Yes–I had to learn it when I was little. It was a… school, requirement then." The boys palms are sweaty, his eyes are wide and he's worried that this is it, they've somehow figured out he's a Pontmercy, and that's reason enough to not trust him. They'll kill him, or keep him prisoner. He'll become bait to woo King Javert into a trap– somehow, he's sure. Enjolras is a smart man, he could make a plan with it. They'll tie him up and–

"Why didn't you _tell_ us!" Courfeyrac cheers, running up to the freckled boy and shaking him. He hugs him and Marius is gapping and stuttering and looking around to each boy who is smiling or staring in amazement. "Don't you know, fool? Ancient is the language to get into the castle! It's so old, no one usually knows it! We couldn't even find books on it to teach ourselves, and it's so complicated! Can you read it as well?" Marius nods. Courfeyrac spins around and smiles smugly at Enjolras. "What did I tell you Enjolras? I _said_ the boy would come handy!"

Enjolras just nods, not accepting or denying Courfeyrac's convenience in being correct. He pushes the curly haired boy to the side. He stares at Marius, intensely, with the permanent set of flaming ember in his eyes becoming more intense.

"We'll need you for a mission, Marius," he tells. Marius's blush returns.

**!&!**

He's nervous a few days before the mission. He's been preparing himself and the rest of the Amis for two months (years? who knows), but he's nervous. He's anxious because even though Enjolras has started to trust him, there's still a skeptical glint in his eyes that Marius can't seem to shake. He wants to do _good_, to prove to everyone he wants to overthrow King Javert. He hates the man, he's told before.

But he's nervous, quakingly so. Grantaire notices, and Marius doesn't shy away when he's handed a drink. Grantaire pats his shoulder, slurs something Marius is sure is good advice that he wishes had listened closer to, before walking off to bother Bahorel into a game of cards.

When he's halfway through the drink, the door to the bar slams open. He jumps, turning to look. In the light of full moon and candles amongst the room, he sees a girl. A grown girl he's never seen before. With hair like the raven night and skin the colour of soft soil. She's smiling brightly, a large gap between her front teeth. He's never seen her before.

"Hello boys!" she cheers. "I'm back!"

The other Amis laugh good-heartedly, and Marius looks around the room. Everyone is either minding their own business or laughing and approaching the young girl. He looks for Courfeyrac, who always is eager to tell him about things he's not acutely aware of.

Courfeyrac though, is sitting a table or two away from him, staring at the girl with a glimmer of fear in his eyes. He looks down at his mug, back in her direction as she punches Bahorel in the arm. He's gripping at his cup before looking to Marius, a sense of relief pouring on his face. "Marius! Of course mate, what a good timing. You have to meet 'Ponine! Of course, of course!" He looks delighted, standing up and pulling Marius to his feet.

Marius stumbles beside Courfeyrac over to the group that's surrounded the girl. She smiles cheekily at the curly haired brunette and jumps up to hug him before pinching his side. He laughs, and Marius feels like the whole thing is one inch off to the left– Courfeyrac is weirdly tense as Marius has never seen him.

"'Ponine!" Courf cheers. "How are you, you devil? Out stealing flowers from the fields still?" he jokes and tousles her hair, a bit longer than protocol calls for.

She snorts, loud and bares her head back. "You wish! I'm a little more skillful than you, _Courf_. Take a look at this shiny thing," she holds a locket, with the Sun Kingdom's emblem shining proudly in the dim candlelight. "Stole it off an old hag. Not to shabby." She sntaches it back away and sticks it in her pocket. When she glances up, away from here her hand has slipped and to where Courfeyrac stands, then her eyes catch Marius's.

Marius smiles, extending his hand out to her, and she looks very taken aback. She reaches out, weakly clasps his hand in her own and shakes it quickly before he can even tell her, "Hello, my name is Marius. Nice to meet you."

"Eponine," she says smalley. She looks at the rest of the boys, shaking her head and fitting an awkward smile. "You're new. Courfeyrac pick you up from the woods?" Marius's eyebrows raise up and he asks how she knew. She giggles and glances at the curly haired boy. "That's what he did to me, of course." She looked away from the boy and back to Marius, who looked to Courfeyrac, who was staring at Eponine, with a worried expression.

**!&!**

Eponine hangs around him for a few days leading to the mission. Marius assumes she's being friendly, nice to the new kid in town. It makes him smile and he happily accepts her invitation to walk around the village.

They talk, and Marius thinks Eponine nice; but if he's perfectly honest she seems a bit… odd? She brags about the things she's stolen, the people she's left behind in the wake of her dust. In the midst of their walk she reads out loud at random moments. She tells him to be impressed, "Most poor kids nowadays can't read, Pontmercy." The words roll out of her mouth delicately, falling onto the ground and Marius nearly leaves it there, but in the next second he hears the last word, his cursed surname come back to knock the wind out of him.

"You know?" he chokes, suddenly scared.

"Do I? I suppose," she sing songs, turning on her heel and stopping in front of him. "I know the Pontmercy heir broke his fiancee's heart and ran away in the dead of the night. I know the Pontmercy family prided itself on being fluent in Ancient. Doesn't take long to put two and two together."

"Please don't tell," Marius immediately begs. His voice drops as low as he can manage and he quakes before a girl much smaller than himself. She snorts.

"Oh please, I have better things to do than tattle," she says, gently pushing his shoulder. He sighs in relief and something flashes in her eyes that he doesn't mean to notice. She takes a step back, her smile kinder. "Don't worry Pontmercy, you can trust me."

He smiles and pats a hand on her shoulder. "You're a good friend 'Ponine, thank you." _He_ doesn't realize it's the first time he's called her by her nickname, _he_ doesn't realize that since they shook hands, this is the first time _he's_ initiated contact with her. _He_ doesn't notice any of that, because in the next second Joly is yelling for him to come in– that Enjolras needs to talk to him about the mission. Marius's hand leaves Eponine's shoulder easily, still warm and indifferent. He smiles and says okay. He looks to Eponine, thanks her again, before running off to meet up with Enjolras. He walks off so quickly, he doesn't hear anything Eponine whispers under her breath.

**!&!**

The mission is two days later, and Marius is nervous. He has little jobs, getting past securities and tricking guards and helping, but he's nervous and his gut is clenching and he's throwing up meals he's only thought of eating.

Courfeyrac laughs and pats him on the back and tells him, "You'll be fine, you'll be fine."

Eponine has left as quickly as she came. In a whisper instead of roar. She had come to Courfeyrac's apartment the night before to say goodbye. Courfeyrac pointed out that it was odd, how she usually just left him to wonder. She shrugged and her eyes had flickered to Marius. "I didn't want anyone to worry this time, I suppose," she told, not tearing her eyes from Marius. He scrunched his brow in confusion and looks behind him, out the window he's sure she was staring through. Courfeyrac looked sad, and hugged her tight, much longer than she had seemed prepared for. She waved goodbye to Marius, a smaller voice than he had heard her talk with before. He waved back, wished her luck. She left.

When Marius asked why she was allowed to come and go, the boy sighed. "Her family isn't the nicest, but she can't seem to tear herself away from them. She comes here when it's bad, goes back when she thinks it'll be good. She'll be back in a week, I'm sure." He sighed again.

**!&!**

It takes them two days to get to the Sun Kingdom. They hop over walls and scoot under fences that have been put up. The day is cloudy, the waves of the ocean crashing roughly against the edge of the castle. It doesn't look like it will rain, just be dark. It's Marius's first time to this Kingdom, and he doesn't even get to see it dazzle.

He sticks close to Courfeyrac who guides him through quietly. They act as normal as possible, Marius speaking in general Ancient with guards who ask for passwords and the knots in his stomach untangle with every successful syllable. Enjolras pats his shoulder as they manage their way into the actual castle, and Marius feels like it's acceptance.

They act as though they are delivering something for the jewelry room, a small, simple locket they tell everyone once belonged to the Almost Queen Fantine. Marius asks Courf what it actually is, and a smile tugs at his lips as he whispers, "That necklace Eponine stole– it was her part of the mission." Marius's eyes widen, and Courfeyrac chuckles in reply.

Jehan stands in the middle of them, holding the box with necklace in it delicately. The rest of the boys surround him, acting as bodyguards. Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac stand in the front, with Marius standing behind Courfeyrac. Bahorel, Joly, and Bossuet walk in the back, with Grantaire to the other side.

The last castle guard looks at them skeptically, not recalling any tale of a piece of jewelry to be delivered. Marius speaks up, giving a long and almost nonsensical story of papers being lost and says the whole thing in quick Ancient words and the guard is clearly confused and just shrugs and lets them through. Bahorel punches the boy in shoulder in a "you-did-good" kind of way. Marius winces, then smiles.

The Jewelry Room is clogged with glass shelves and cases, with two guards at the front door (There's no need for more, the security is too tight, clearly). Marius wonders how beautiful this place must look when the sunlight streams through the windows and shines in and out of each clear diamond and ruby and other gems. Marius shakes his head, starring on straight ahead. The case they head to is in the back, and Marius sees it finally; The Lost Princess Euphrasia's crown. It's petite and gentle, weaved gems into the shape of flowers and glistening in a room that's completely dim. It's beautiful, it's elegant. Marius can't believe they're going to steal it.

Joly glances behind them, sees the guards are still facing to the door, and coughs once. Enjolras reaches in and grabs the crown quickly, turning around and shoving the crown into Joly's hands and grabbing the box with the petty necklace and shoving it in the case. Joly stumbles for a second before shoving the crown in Bossuet's bag and they all turn around and start to walk off as calmly as possible. Marius's heart is beating so loud he can feel it rushing in his veins and throb in his ears and he might faint he's so nervous. They walk out of the room, the doors opening and there's a sense of relief washing over them all.

Before they can get down the hall though, a sound of stitches ripping noises, and before anyone can think of it, Bossuet's strap on his bag breaks and the bag tumbles to the floor. Joly squeaks from the sudden noise and Bossuet is bending down and picking the bag up from the wrong end and the tiara falls out and tumbles to the tile with clinks that ring out around them. Bossuet scoops it up as quickly as his clumsy hands can manage, but when the boys turn to look, the guards are staring at them with puffed up cheeks and pure rage.

"Not to be the obvious one," Grantaire said suddenly. "But I suggest we run."

And in the next second they are sprinting at full force, and the guards are chasing after them.

**!&!**

They're quick and agile and not being weighed down by armor, so they all manage to slip in and out of everyone's grasps, weaving in between each other and the halls of the castle with a quick pace. The tiara is tossed from person to person, Bossuet throwing it to Jehan who slides it to Grantaire who drops it for Courfeyrac to pick up.

When they get outside there are more guards, standing around them and closing in and in a quick second Marius is being tugged to the side by Bahorel and running and jumping off the side of the wall without thinking. He lands mostly on some shrubs and his bum aches from the fall, but he quickly scrambles to his feet as Jehan tosses the tiara down to Bahorel before jumping down the short wall. Enjolras is jumping next and him and Bahorel are sprinting for the woods. Marius quickly follows as Joly and Bossuet land and the rest of the boys follow in suit. Enjolras is shouting out orders Marius can barely keep up with until they come to a lead of horses and Enjolras is stopped short and throws the tiara behind him. Grantaire catches it before it can hit the Earth and quickly screams, "Good time to split up, aye? Don't mind me, I'll take the tiara!"

Before Marius can even think about anything, Grantaire is shoving the Tiara into his hands and running off, holding a branch concealed in his arms. Marius rushes in the other direction, his cheeks hot and his lungs labouring out air. He can hear someone at his heels and even though he prays, when he turns around he sees it's a single guard and he yelps and runs faster. He comes to a large trunk that's fallen over and jumps over it with ease. The guard gets caught up on a branch though and the few second it take for him to be untangled, lets Marius dart under a curtain of vines and hide himself and quiet his breathing as much as he can.

He watches between the vines as the guard runs past, not even stopping to look at the curtain of greenery. Marius sighs and thanks his lucky stars for this. He holds the tiara close to his chest and thanks his damn lucky stars.

When he dashed into his hiding spot, he assumed it was a cave. So when he turns around, he's surprised to see more of an open field. The rock is merely an arch, not a hollowed out cave. He blinks his eyes, looking to the tiny field that is laid out. There's a tiny pool of water to the side, high trees surround the area, flowers liter the grass. In the center of it all, is a tall, tall, ragged tower. Tall as he can see, covered in plants and wildflowers and it climbs higher and higher. There's a small window just out the front, looking towards where the sun sets.

"One of the boys ran this way!" someone screams from behind the curtain and Marius's feet run without his knowledge and suddenly he's clambering up the side of the tower, holding the tiara on his arm and pulling himself up and up and up. Before he knows it, he's at the ledge of the windowsill and with the last bits of his strength, pulling himself into the tower. Just as he does, he can slowly start to feel the tingling bits of sunlight. He looks up, and sees the clouds are parting and the sun is shining through and he feels victorious. He smiles as he gets himself into the tower, holds the tiara out and sighs.

And in the next second, he's hit in the back of a head and everything goes black.

**!&!**

**A/N: **Again, apologies for the long update! The next chapter will hopefully be up sooner, as I am now settling into a pretty decent routine in college. Chapter 4 is already seven pages in, so it'll be a long one! Again, you can always follow me on tumblr theonewhowrites. Beta credit goes to Kelly the Cute and icon credit goes to Samantha the Stunning (poninefaulchevent). I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Unknown

"_It's the unknown that draws people." _

― _E.A. Bucchianeri_

Cosette had heard him grunting from the bottom of her tower. She had been inside, staring at herself and examining the inches of her face she did not like. She had been surrounded by too much quiet, and so when she heard the deep breaths and grunts from below, she had jumped.

She knew it could not be her family or Montparnasee– even if they did not want to use her hair, they would know there were stairs at the bottom of the tower. It could be no one she knew, and her body flexed and pumped with sudden worry.

She glanced out, past her window sill, just for a second, and saw below her a boy she had never seen, staring down at his feet as he tried to place them on the largest ledges. She gasped and drew herself back into her tower. She could close the shutters– but they would squeak and he would _know_ she was in there. He must have been after her for her hair, a terrible boy her family had warned her against. She gasped again, fear shaking her arms.

His grunts were getting closer, and she knew she had to act fast, before he could harm her. With quivering lips and a fast pacing heart, she ran quickly to her kitchen, grabbing the heaviest thing she could lift and running into a corner near the window. She moved her hair as far out of the way, and closed her eyes to stop the tears that had collected. She wanted her mother.

She watched, as sunlight started to peek in through the window, onto the floor of the tower. Suddenly the shadow of a hand appeared, then of a whole body. And soon, he stood in her tower. He was tall, much taller than she. Probably much stronger. Her mind flashed with all of the horror stories her mother and father and sisters had whispered to her over the years. His arms were lean, his jaw pointed. His face was flickered in freckles, and around his arm he had something shiny.

He let out a breath, and stared at the shiny thing. With every ounce of courage and strength she had, Cosette stepped forward, held the frying pan behind her, before bringing it down and hitting the back of his head.

A gasp left his lips, before he fell to the ground in a heap, the shiny object sliding away and out of her thoughts. She dropped the frying pan out of fear, and it hit the floor in a loud thud. She shuffled away, trying to save her poor toes and her mind imagined the man's eyes opening. She stared at him in horror, waiting for him to sit up, glare at her with pure red eyes, growl and hurt her. She felt herself begin to cry again.

Several minutes passed, and he did not move and she eventually let her hands drop to her sides, and her breaths slow. She carefully took her barefoot and kicked the bottom of the man's shoe. He shifts, but did not wake. She feels safer, and walks over his legs, and around to where his head is. She stares at him carefully, noticing the bit of red on his hair from the spot she hit him. For a second she feels guilty. Terribly so. Her stomach trembles and she, without thinking, goes to get a towel. It takes her five steps to remember she _shouldn't_ feel bad. She had to hit him– he had come in her tower! She turns on her heels, staring at him again.

In all her life, Cosette had seen eight people, beside herself. Her mother, her father, her sisters, her brother, Montparnasse, and two of her father's friends. In all her life she had seen eight of same faces. Eight faces over and over again. Never changing, she feels. So, as this man she's never met before lays on her floor, she spoils herself. She stares, sitting on her knees and staring at him. His cheeks are dotted in freckles–ones like Eponine use to have when they were younger. His skin is a paled tan, sweet honey coloured. His hair is light and she feels like she could touch it and know it was soft. His eyelashes are longer than hers, gentle crescents that shape the moon she knows well. His lips are chapped around the edges, just a shade lighter than his skin. Cosette's hand reaches out, just to touch him, but she draws back. She remembers the stories and the fear crawls back in her skin. The sun is setting over the side of the trees. How long has she stared?

There's another spike of fear in her heart, because the boy is clearly breathing, and there's a very good chance he'll wake up. And when he does, she won't know what to do, because Cosette has never had to fight someone. She shudders and looks around her small tower.

Her hair catches her sight, lying lazily on the floor and she quickly grabs the locks in her hands. She takes them, and starts to wrapping them around the boy's wrists, binding them above his head. She grabs her hair, and with all of her strength she pulls the boy, far off into her bedroom. She's not thinking clear, and quickly starts to wrapping her hair around him, binding his feet and his hands behind his back, she even takes a lock through his mouth in case he wakes up to holler. She looks at what she's crafted with slight horror and a slight nod of being impressed. She shoves the boys under her bed with all her might and just then she hears the yells from the bottom of her tower.

"COSETTE!" her mother screams and Cosette winces at her tone. She runs out of the room, before the shiny object glistens in her sight. In an impulsive move she grabs it off the floor and slides it into her room, where it streaks off under the bed. Her mother yells again and Cosette moves over to the window sill, grabbing the very end of her hair as she goes.

"Sorry mother!" she cries to the earth and throws her hair down, pulling her mother up as quickly as possible. Her mother starts to complain the minute she's past the windowsill, but Cosette doesn't listen because she's suddenly washed over with all the incredible fear in her body and she clutches herself to her mother in a tight hug.

Her mother draws back, looking down at her clinging daughter and says, "What the devil's gotten into _you_?" she says with a tinge of disgust and forces her daughter off of her. "Let your father up, you brat," she says and walks away from her daughter and Cosette is still shaking when she throws her hair down. She tries to hug her father when he comes into her tower, but he merely brushes her off and she's _still_ shaking with excess fear.

"What's wrong with you?" her father asks. She opens her mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand to stop her. "Nevermind. I'm actually more concerned about this." He holds up a small book in his hand, which is bent on the spin and the pages are soaked and dirty. It's _Oh How Small_, the book Cosette had thrown from her tower so forcefully. It had been returned and Cosette felt a sense of dread in her stomach. "What is this young lady?" he asks scornfully.

"It's my old book," she says smalley. "But Father I–" She's interrupted again.

"Why was it _outside_ on the _ground_?" his voice is rough, angry and Cosette shrinks back away from him.

"I–I," she thinks to lie, but can't reason one and tells him, "I threw it out there. I was angry. I don't like that book."

His eyes go alight in furry and snatches one of her arms in his grasp. "Don't _like_ it? What kind of bloody excuse is that! I _bought_ this damn book for you because you were '_so bored_'," he whines in a high pitched voice that makes Cosette flinch and try to pull away from his grasp. He holds tighter. "You think you can just throw away what I get you just because you _don't like it_?" His grip gets tighter. "You little brat– see if _I_ get you anything ever again! You'll go mad bored in this damn tower you-you–"

"I'm sorry, Father," she cries and shrinks back as he lets go of her forcefully, making her lose her balance and falling to the floor. "I'm sorry," she weeps.

"Useless child. Just like the rest of them. Sing," he says coldly, reaching down and grabbing her hair roughly.

Cosette looks to her mother with blurred eyes, who is holding a stray bit of Cosette's hair in her hands and not looking anywhere in her daughter's direction. Cosette coughs, and feels her father pull roughly on her hair. Her voice cracks and slips, but she sings. Her hair lights up the room and she sings and cries. When she's done her parents drop her hair, and her father throws the book on her lap in disgust. They slide down Cosette's hair without a word, and Cosette is left to cry by herself, _Oh How Small_ staring at her from the floor with a smug look only she can see. She kicks the book away from her, then flinches and crawls over to grab it, dusting the dirt off of it and setting it on the bookshelf again, where it would always stay.

She takes her hands and roughly rubs at the tears on her face. She feels exhausted and stares at her hands, small and pale and weak. Weak, weak, _weak_. She wants to scream.

Suddenly, there's a shift in her hair and she looks to her room, where she knows the boy must slowly be waking up. She looks back down at her hands, open palms faced towards the sky. Hands that are indifferent to the life they lead. She clenches them, tight fingers into her dry palms. Into tiny balls of fists that can hit and hold frying pans and knock out boys much taller than herself. She stands up, and walks towards her room, her fists clenching.

**!&!**

Marius wakes up, suddenly, propped up against something, his legs laid out in front of him, and feeling somewhat refreshed and alert. He shakes his head from side to side, yawning loudly. He looks around, noticing that this room doesn't look like Courfeyrac's apartment, and his cheek itches and he goes to scratch it, but when he tugs at his arm from behind him, he suddenly feels a restraint tugging on him to stay in that spot. His adrenaline suddenly spikes and he pulls again and suddenly realizes he's tied up–hands behind his back and his torso tied to the pole tightly. His fear spikes and for a second he thinks the guard found him and knocked him out and –

_The tiara!_

He's panicking, looking around and praying he'll get a glimpse of the crown they all fought so hard to get. Instead he sees an old dresser and candles and paintings. So many paintings along the walls. Flowers and butterflies and trees and stars and he's confused as to what prison looks this way, until he hears a voice speak.

"D-Don't try to-to st-struggle," a little voice says from somewhere he can't see.

"What?" he asks, his voice gravelly and he coughs.

"R-Resisting is pointless. I-I… I can knock you out again." The voice is most likely female, and that makes Marius even more confused.

"Who are you?" Marius asks, looking around. Suddenly, in the corner of the room, cowering like a child, he sees a figure, tiny and almost frial. His confusion doubles and he's straining to see where she's hidden herself.

He hears her inhale and exhale. Suddenly, she steps out of the shadows, her figure coming full in the light. His eyes widen and he thinks he's perhaps gasped out loud. She's small, with a strong posture and green eyes so wide he can see white surrounding every bit of colour. Her eyelashes are long, longer than his he thinks, and her cheeks are round. She's stunning in the light, and Marius, despite his predicament, can't help but feel his heart stutter.

"Who are you?" she asks, her voice more stern than before. "How did you find my tower?"

He continues to stare, at a daze for what's being asked. In her hands she's holding a frying pan, and her hair is golden, deep and flowing. It hangs past her neck, her shoulders, her hips, her… knees… all the way to the… floor….

Suddenly Marius is trying to follow the trail of her hair and when he looks down to his waist, he sees that same shade of deep gold wrapped around him and he flinches back into the pole. "Is this _hair_?!" he screeches and Cosette flinches and holds the pan up higher. Marius's hands flail as he tries to show surrender. "No! No, sorry, um I'm not–What did you say? I'm not going to resist, I promise. Please don't hit me again."

She lowers the frying pan, slowly, suspiciously.

Cosette watches for a second, as the boy pants and twists awkwardly from where he is tied to her bed post on the floor. She stares into his eyes, which are now revealed to be green–one shade darker than her own, she'd say. His voice is soft and sweet in her ears and her knees quiver in a way she's never known them too.

"I–" he starts, trying to adjust himself to sit straighter. "I'm sorry but–do you have me tied up with your _hair_?" She nods and his eyes widen again and he looks down. "God, how much do you _have_?" he asks, but then immediately silences himself when she flinches the pan in her hand.

"Who are you?" she asks again, her voice stronger, firmer. "How did you find my tower? How many of you know?"

Her questions confused Marius, and he shakes his head and says, "My name is Marius P– Marius." He stops himself in time and breaths lightly. "I stumbled across it I was–I was running from the Castle guards. I'm of the rebel allegiance." Even held as hostage, being interrogated by a small girl with long hair and a frying pan, he feels a small twinge of pride in his stomach when he says that.

She glares at him and takes a step closer. "Guards? Rebel allegiance? Who are you, Marius? What do you want with my hair?" she asks quickly, her glare deepening.

Marius's brow furrows and he shakes his head. "Ma'am, I have nothing to do with your hair. I just, if you will, I just want to get out of it." His lips quiver at his joke. The girls glares stays stern. He nods, "Fair enough," he mumbles.

"You want nothing with my hair?" she asks again.

"No–What would I do with so much?"

It comes clear very quickly to Cosette that he doesn't know– that he doesn't have a clue about her hair and its qualities. She had checked his head when she pulled him out from under the bed– it was perfectly healed. She must have fixed it when she had sung for her father and mother earlier. She couldn't tell if she was thankful or more worried.

Cosette holds the frying pan up suddenly, pointing it at Marius's face and inhaling as her elbow quivers. "Why were you running from 'castle guards'?" she asks skeptically.

"I–" His eyes go wide and suddenly he's looking around again. "Where's the tiara?" He rasps, squirming to crane his neck. He looks to her, with wide eyes and quivering eyebrows. "Miss, please. The crown I had– where did it go?"

She trains herself to not glance to the bag by her bed, where she stashed the shiny jewel. She fixes her eyes on his shoulder, and takes a breath. "I hid it. You'll never find it," she says as steady as she can.

He looks like he might cry. "Please, _please_, Miss _please_. We went through _so_ _much_ for that– miss we risked our _lives_, please–"

"Who's we?" she asks sharply, holding the frying pan an inch in front of his nose. "Who's _we_?" she says, fear deafening her to anything but the unsteady breathing of the boy.

She looks down at the frying pan, his voice dropping to a much lower volume. "Th-The rebellion," he whispers. "I'm a member of the rebellion against the King Javert," he practically whispers. This time, the same pride doesn't swell his chest; which is filled an anguish that a little girl with a frying pan may kill him. "Please Miss, I mean no harm." His eyes look up, and catch hers.

Cosette's wrist's quiver, barely. The boy– _Marius_, his eyes are stunning bits of green so much darker than hers, she thinks now. So much darker. So much wider. So much more _knowledgeable._ She drops her frying pan to her side. He looks fearful, like the child she feels inside her when she looks in the mirror. He looks tired, like how she so often needs to feel.

The plan, that had been lurking so quietly in her mind, comes to the front and prods her. She nods, and crosses her arms.

"Hear this,_ Marius_," she says, trying to sound cold and distant. "You have two options. I can let you leave unharmed, but with no tiara." Marius's eyes are wide and he starts to stutter, until she holds up her free hand. "_Or_, your other option, is that you leave here, and take me with you. And I will give you the crown only when I know I am safe." The words dizzy her, and she feels the need to throw up pushing in her throat and the frying pan is suddenly too heavy and this is all too scary and she wants to change her mind.

But she can't, she can't now.

Mariu's brow is furrowed together, his eyes squinted and his lips in a line. "Escort you?" he asks. "What kingdom are you from?"

She blinks, because she doesn't understand his question.

A look of worry crosses his face. "Wait, have you _never_ left here?"

Now, Cosette blinks, but she feels like she's trying to shield herself from his question. She suddenly realizes it's _embarrassing_ that she's only ever lived in one place, whereas people like him have probably lived in a hundred places, seen a hundred faces, done a hundred things. Cosette feels like she's only done enough for two hands to count.

Marius is aghast, face in disbelief. "_My god_, why?"

"It's safe," Cosette says sharply. "My home is safe. I can't be hurt here. The world outside is evil and scary. I'm safe here."

"Then Miss–"

"It's Cosette," she interrupts quickly, tired of "Miss".

"Cosette," he corrects, before continuing. "Cosette, why do you want to leave?" he asks, genuinely curious, and the words rattle Cosette.

She looks down, feeling lost in her own feelings and the brown stub of hair on the back of her neck seems to throb. "I…" she starts, words trailing off her lips. "I just… I need to," she whispers. Her eyes snap up to his, and the emotions on his face are ones Cosette has never experienced, and she almost shows a hint of fear. But the next second she's grasping the frying pan tighter and asking sternly, "So? What will it be, Marius?"

And Marius sighs, defeated.

**!&!**

Apparently, it's morning. Cosette tells Marius he stayed unconscious throughout the entire night, even when she was dragging him and tying him up. He shakes his head and, when she's released his hands from her bind, he touches the back of his head. It's not even sore, and he comments, "That's weird. I don't even think there's a bruise. You hit me pretty hard, I thought. I figured I would have bled."

Cosette shifts nervously, pulling all of her hair out of the way and not telling her captive that her hair is what cured him. She's not sure what the protocol for that is, so she leaves it be. When she finishes packing, securing her bag around her when Marius eyes it suspiciously. She's aware he could probably try and just steal her bag and run, because there's no doubt the crown is in it. For safety measures, she makes sure he watches her put the frying pan in her bag. It's heavy, but her safety weighs a little more.

The stairs to the tower are locked from the outside (a safety measure her parents set in place), and Marius opts to climb down the tower before Cosette can suggest her hair. She doesn't press the fact, she doesn't want anyone using her hair anymore.

He starts down first, climbing swiftly and telling Cosette he'll catch her if she falls. Cosette doesn't hear him. Doesn't hear anything. Doesn't hear the damned birds fly away or the wind rush by outside her tower. Outside the tower she will leave. Outside her home. She's going to leave. Her knees quake and there's a real feeling in her gut that she may cry or throw up. She wants to run back inside, hide under her covers and cry that she's sorry. She's so, _so_ sorry.

A click, happens in her mind.

Why is she sorry? For being tired? For being bored? For being scared? Scared of what?

The questions hit her. Cosette buckles her knees, clings to her hair that's thrown around the hook and towards the ground. She looks up to the sky, something she's always felt so close to. Closer than anyone should feel. She looks down, and in an instance, she jumps.

The air around her rushes and pours and her hands grip tightly to her hair. She gasps, and without her permission, her eyes shut and she hears Marius scream out a warning. Her eyes open, and she manages to tighten her grip enough to slow herself down. Her body lurches and before she can register, before she can _prepare _herself, the souls of her feet hits the skin of the earth.

It's instant. A high and a shock through her body. It runs up her spin and she's on a slope and falls backwards, onto her bum and her hair falls the rest of the way off the hook and next to her.

Marius is next to her, asking her questions, but she can't hear him, can't hear anything. She can feel the grass. Soft and damp in the early morning's dew. It slips between her fingers, which flex and pull the leaves in close. The dirt is gushy and cold and she can see bits of brown under her fingernails. It's soft and hard at the same time and Cosette is baffled by how this can be. She runs her hands up and down the ground, her heels kick in a push her toes through the grass and Cosette is _smiling,_ pure and honest. The grass tickles her calves and she lays on her side, her cheek rubbing the ground and tingles run down her spine. Her dress is wet and her hands are dirty and her blood roars in her veins and her heart may burst. She sighs and tears prick the back of her eyelids. She closes them, savouring the feel of grass softer than any blanket and dirt purer than light. She stays still, feeling the water soak her skin and the sun warm her face.

"I've never felt so good," she whispers to the wind.

Marius takes its reply, "It's just grass."

Her eyes snap open and she sits up. "I've never felt grass," she whispers. "Never."

The words boggle Marius's mind and he wonders how childlike it is– to have never felt something as common as _grass_. He's been around grass his entire life, he can't imagine never feeling it.

"Is it… is it nice?" he asks dumbly, because he's never been around someone who's so content with something so small. It startles him.

She smiles, smalley, gently. "Yes," she sighs. "It's better than my bed. And the _smell_." She inhales and falls back onto her back.

The sun shines, over the tips of the trees and spilling onto their hidden meadow. It coats her, and Marius watches as every shard of light transfixed on her, being absorbed into her and being let out in a gentle glow that makes his chest hum. He inhales sharply, trailing his eyes along the path of her hair to the bundle it's made from it's fall from the top of the tower. It shines as bright as the sun, and the back of Marius's head seems to itch.

He coughs, after letting her soak up the rays for a minute (because he was being generous, certainly _not_ because he was starring). Her eyes open lazily, and when she looks to him, her green irises glassy and clear, he feels incredibly rude. "It's a two day travel," he says. "to a safe village I know quite well."

A strike of fear freezes in her eyes and she says, "What if my parents live there?" Her bottom lip is trembling and she's clutching the blades of grass, begging to never leave it again.

Marius is at a loss for a second, because it is a possibility until he remembers that it's not, because certainly Courfeyrac would have told him about the parents who kept their daughter locked up in a tower. Right?

He shakes his head. "Doubtful." Her eyes are still unsure and the look queases Marius. He extends a hand, and smiles gently. "I promise. There's no possible way you're mother or father could live where I do. Surely I would know."

Cosette blinks, slow, letting her skin settle into the ground for a second longer, feeling it on her body and dress, before reaching a hand up and placing it into Marius's. His hand is rough, large, and warm. He seems too sweet to lie, surely. "Right," she whispers as he pulls her up. She releases his hand quickly, and dusts the grass off of her hands, already missing the feel of it all.

She takes a second, cranes her neck to look up, up, _up_ at her tower. It's long, tiny. Tinier than she remembers, even now. How did she not grow out of it sooner? It's much too small for her and all of her hair. Birds fly past and she feels smug, down on the ground with her bare soles scrapping between the earth. She looks back to Marius, her cheeks warm and her eyes wide.

"Shall we?" she says. He smiles, smally, and nods.

And without looking back, Cosette leaves her tower.

**!&!**

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to follow me on tumblr (theonewhowrites). Big thanks to Kelly (sketchingapollo tumblr) for being my beta, and Samantha (poninefaulchevent tumblr) for making the graphic!

Please review!


End file.
